


A Different Kind of Danger

by realthicbitch



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Pining, and really in denial, but she's a bit of an idiot, but she's baby protect this idiot at all costs, eventual fluff i'm guessing, jen has feelings, lol yeah right i've read some of yall's angst this does not compare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realthicbitch/pseuds/realthicbitch
Summary: When Jen first met Judy, she would never have guessed that the perky, perpetually optimistic woman would become the most important person in her life (well, apart from her kids).
Relationships: Judy Hale & Jen Harding, Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	A Different Kind of Danger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenC_13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenC_13/gifts).



> happy birthday ily ♡

There was nothing that would have indicated how much she would grow to care for her. Inviting Judy to live with her and the boys was something so out of character for Jen. She was fiercely protective of those she loved (there were few), and inviting Judy to live with them, essentially a stranger who had already lied to her about something so huge was a very risky move. But then Judy moved in, and all of her fears were allayed.

They had fallen into a comfortable routine. Judy would wake up early and make breakfast for everyone, and lunch for the boys. Sometimes she’d make lunch for Jen too, with a little note telling her to have a good day, and not to let Lorna’s passive aggression get the better of her. That was something Judy was really good at. She was always encouraging, always positive, always hopeful. It was so different from what Jen was used to, but that wasn’t a bad thing really. Jen knew she was too harsh sometimes, too quick to anticipate the worst, too easily able to see only the bad things in people. But Judy had started teaching her to hope, how to ask herself, “what if this goes well?” instead of, “what will I do when all of this ends horribly?” Judy was peace and hope and love incarnate, something Jen never realized she was craving until she had it.

Then there was _that_ night, the night Judy confessed, the night Jen had cried herself to sleep, mourning not only the loss of her husband, but the loss of her best friend. No one seemed to stick around for long. It reaffirmed Jen’s fear that she was just destined to be alone, left wanting, forever craving intimacy. She woke up the next morning, head pounding and heart aching, desperately wishing she could go back in time and do anything to stop Judy from confessing to her. 

And then _Steve_ happened. He came to her more than ready to incite violence, she had just known it. He was looking for Judy, the way he spoke about her made Jen’s blood to run hot and her skin prickle with uncertainty. He was so arrogant, so pompous, making Ted’s death about himself and how bad it had made him feel. Jen knew, then, that it was truly Steve who had killed Ted.

_Judy would have stopped._

Judy would have stayed by Ted’s side and held his hand until help came. She would have answered the Police’s questions and done anything they’d asked of her, because she always did the right thing even if it was hard.

And then Steve was dead. And Jen’s phone was in her hand and she heard Judy’s voice without even realizing she had called her. 

_I need you to come home._

Because it _was_ Judy’s home. She belonged there. She belonged with Jen and the boys, the little family they had created out of longing and a craving for normalcy, for security, for a home. That’s what it felt like, when Jen came home from work after a long day to see Judy and Henry together on the sofa watching TV or playing cards or just talking, Charlie sitting off to the side pretending he couldn’t care less but paying close attention to every word. Judy felt like home, like a safe place for Jen to bare anything and everything. 

Judy came home, of course, and helped Jen hide Steve’s body and clean up and get the kids out the door and on their way to school. For a moment, just a split second, Jen felt that familiarity and comfort that followed Judy wherever she went. 

It was that night, when she found Judy’s bracelet in the kitchen, that she realized how much she needed her . So she called, hoping that she wouldn’t answer and hoping desperately that she would. And then Judy was in Jen’s bed, in Jen’s arms. They cried together, a kind of hungry cry, one that left them holding onto each other, terrified to be the first to let go. 

Judy moved back in. There wasn’t much to move, she hadn’t taken much with her when she left. She and Jen slowly began to repair the bond they’d had. Nights in front of the TV with a bottle of wine and no space between them once again became the norm. Shoulders touching, a hand on a knee, a tuck of hair behind an ear became unspoken communication between them.

_I’m sorry._

_I forgive you._

_I’m glad you’re here._

_I’m glad you’re glad._

_I love you._

_I love you too._

Then Judy met Michelle, _a new friend_ , and Jen felt like she'd been kicked in the chest. Why did Judy need another friend? Why hadn’t she told Jen about her before she told Henry? Why the _fuck_ did Jen care?

And then she saw them together. She saw the way they looked at each other and spoke without words, they made each other smile and laugh, they pressed their foreheads together with an intimacy that Jen hadn’t realized she wanted until she saw it between the two of them. Discovering that Perez was not only Michelle’s ex but also her roommate gave Jen the excuse to tell Judy to stay away from her. It was for both of their sake, really. They needed to protect themselves, and the further they stayed away from the police the safer they were. Jen tried to convince herself it was the only reason she felt a hot rush of unease when she saw Michelle holding Judy’s hand. The hurt she saw in Judy’s face was more painful than seeing her with Michelle had been, and that made her wonder why it had hurt in the first place. There was nothing between her and Judy like that, right? All of the hugs and sweet words and hand-holding and face touching were just what friends did. There was no deeper meaning behind any of it. There was no reason for her to be sad that Judy was spending time with someone else, going on dates, kissing someone that wasn’t her-

_No._

Jen was _not_ upset that Judy was dating. Judy deserved the world, and every happiness that she could get. Jen was absolutely _not_ jealous of the way Michelle would probably get to see Judy now more than she would, and share in the special moments and important things before her, and definitely not jealous of how Michelle would know things about Judy that perhaps she wouldn’t be privy to. No, she wasn’t jealous at all, and the dull ache she felt in her chest whenever she thought about them was only because she was worried about the Perez situation.

But it felt a lot like envy.

Jen fucked Ben in a last ditch effort to convince herself that she didn’t need Judy in every goddamn way possible. It had felt wrong, guilt rushing coldly through her veins. It felt wrong and she was uncomfortable. Every touch of their hands on each other felt awkward and forced, a pantomime of something that was supposed to be effortless. It made her feel dirty. Jen told herself it was because Ben was new, someone different after years of being used to Ted's hands on her. She ignored the painful feeling in her chest when he kissed her and all she could think of was Judy.

Jen felt a perverse satisfaction when Judy told her Michelle was out of the picture, which only made Jen feel guilty all over again. More than anything, she wanted Judy to be happy, despite how alone she felt when Judy wasn’t with her. Jen wasn’t in touch with her feelings, and communication never came easy for her. She just expected Judy to know how she felt about her, and when Judy didn’t, it frustrated her to the point of lashing out, preying on Judy’s biggest insecurities and hating herself the moment the words left her mouth.

Watching Judy break down and beat her fists on her thighs, her chest, desperate to feel pain anywhere other than on the inside broke Jen’s heart. All of this was her fault. She held Judy in her arms until she stilled, then brought her inside and to her bedroom, dressing her in her own pajamas and holding her until she fell asleep, _all the way asleep_ , and slipped away, careful not to wake her. 

It took hours to write Judy’s letter. No matter how hard she tried, Jen just couldn’t find the right words. She finally settled on _“I love you more than wine,”_ hoping it conveyed enough of the love she felt, but knowing it never could. 

Jen left, planning on a prison cell being her home for the next twenty-five to life, her children growing up without her, hating her for the rest of their lives for ripping their family apart. But she left them with Judy, knowing in her heart they were better off with her, someone who would be endlessly patient and caring and do her absolute best to do right by them. That thought brought her comfort as she and Perez searched the forest for Steve’s body, ultimately coming up short. Then back in the car, Perez had unknowingly forced Jen to look at her relationship with Judy from an outsider’s perspective. On paper, or spoken aloud, they didn’t make sense. But all she could think about was how complete she felt when Judy hugged her. Perez brought her home, having had a change of heart and lapse of faith in justice. Jen blinked, and she was hugging the three most important people in her life. For the first time in weeks, she could breathe.

They fell back into a routine, comfortable and easy, making Jen realize that she wanted this forever. It hit her one night, almost knocking the wind out of her, when they were on the sofa under a blanket and pressed impossibly close together. When Jen thought of her future, there was no scenario where Judy wasn’t a part of it in some way. The truth was there was no scenario where she didn’t want -need, even- Judy in her life. The thought left her breathless, her heartbeat quickening at the way Judy was practically laying in her lap. All of a sudden her feelings had a name.

_Fuck._

Jen was completely and undeniably in love.


End file.
